"Goodnight, Old Lady," he answers.
I close my eyes, and for the first time in days, the darkness feels like safety.
10
LOGAN
The vibration of the phone in my hand feels like a distant echo compared to the rage thrumming through my veins for the last twenty-four hours. I stand on the porch, the icy mountain air biting at my bare chest, staring out into the dense wall of pines separating my world from the town below.
"Talk to me," I growl into the receiver.
"It's handled," Austin’s voice comes through, calm and lethal. "Just a hired hand. Some punk from out of state thought he could earn a quick buck scaring the 'bikers.' He didn't know who he was dealing with."
"Who paid him?"
Austin pauses, followed by the cold click of a lighter.
"The punk gave up the name of the firm. They aren't just looking for land; they’re looking for a fight. Tristan and Chase didn't just put him on a bus—they sent him back with a delivery for the board members. A box containing the brick he threw, soakedin the blood he lost for throwing it. They’ll know exactly whose mountain they stepped on."
My jaw tightens, bone grinding on bone. "Not enough. If they want this block, they can find it in the middle of a graveyard. I want their construction permits tied up in so much red tape they’ll have to sell the company to pay the legal fees. They threatened my heart, Austin. Now I’m going to take theirs."
"Consider it done. We'll bleed them dry," Austin replies, his tone shifting back to the tactical. "And the shop? You want me to send a crew to watch the glass?"
"Blake’s already there fixing the window. Glass is swept. We’re operational," I grunt, my grip on the phone loosening a fraction. "Good."
"And how’s Savannah?" Austin asks, his voice dropping, sensing the change in my energy.
I turn, looking through the glass pane of the cabin door. Savannah sits on the rug in front of the fire, wearing one of my oversized hoodies. Her legs are bare, her hair a chaotic halo of curls catching the firelight. She looks soft. Breakable. And yet, she remains. She didn't run when the brick came through the window. She didn't run when I told her what I am.
"She’s exactly where she belongs," I say, my voice dropping an octave.
"The corporate suits got the message—they're pulling their bid for the block. And Sterling? He actually called the clubhouse. Said his security cameras caught the whole thing and he’s already handed the footage over to Brandon to make sure the firm can’t dispute the charges. He’s stayin' in his lane, Logan. He told me to tell you the 'Queen of the Peak' deserves betterneighbors than corporate sharks. He’s a businessman, but he’s not a fool—he knows this mountain belongs to you."
"Good. He’s smart to stay on our side. But I want the message sent further than Pine Valley. I want every corporate predator and city-suit out there to understand that the next time someone even thinks about targeting Savannah, they aren't just looking at a woman—they’re looking at the end of their world."
"Understood, Pres," Austin says, a dark solemnity in his voice that mirrors my own. "We’ll make sure that’s the last thing they hear before the lights go out. Stay with her."
The line goes dead with a definitive click. I slide the phone into my pocket and step back inside, the mountain air still clinging to my bare skin as I lock the heavy deadbolt behind me.
The sound makes Savannah look up. Her whiskey-colored eyes used to dart with panic, but now they lock onto mine, heavy with a darkened heat that hits me straight in the gut.
"Is everything okay?" she asks, her voice steady.
I walk over to her, my boots heavy on the floorboards. I tower over her, letting my shadow consume her, needing to see that acceptance in her face. "It's done. The threat is gone."
She releases the breath she’s been holding since yesterday. "Nobody... nobody was hurt?"
"Not on our side," I answer. I reach down, my hand large enough to encompass her entire skull, and thread my fingers into her hair. I tilt her head back, forcing her to look at me. "I told you. I handle the monsters. You just have to live in the castle."
"This is a cabin in the middle of nowhere, Logan," she whispers, a small smile touching her lips as she leans into my touch.
I watch her scan the heavy timber walls. She realizes this structure serves as a seat of power, not a hideout. I spent years building walls to keep the world out, but I hadn't built a fortress for a biker—I had built a palace for a Queen. And I would slaughter an army to keep her on that throne.
I pull my hand back, but the need to touch her, to reassert my claim now that the external noise has been silenced, burns like a physical ache. "Get dressed. Put on something warm. And wear the boots I gave you."
Her brow furrows. "Where are we going? The roads are still icy."
"We aren't taking the truck." I turn toward the door where my leather cut hangs on the hook—the President patch staring back at me. "We're taking the bike."
